The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (59 page)

I heard the key as it slipped from his dead fingers and clattered across the concrete floor of the cellblock, but didn’t see where it went.  It didn’t matter. 

I fired at him again.  Another damned leg shot.  I cursed myself for wasting it. 

Down to one bullet remaining. 

I was soaking wet with sweat, though the row of cells had to have been ice cold.  I’ve heard in movies that they’re always cold.  And yet my shirt was soaked, my face dripping sweat as I watched the thing on the ground, lying still.

The other lunatic had initially focused on the first creature I’d shot, perhaps believing it was not one of them.  To that point, I hadn’t noticed them attacking one another, so assumed there was something telltale about a living human’s scent that drew them.

I held my fire.  One round left.  I couldn’t waste it.

The other one never saw me, nor did he look at me.  I stood stock still in the corner of my cell.  It didn’t matter anyway.  He wasn’t likely on the ball enough to find the key, open my cell, and avoid the bullet in his brain that I would surely administer.

So I was okay.  Still, I didn’t like looking at him, I knew I wasn’t going to use the last round on myself, so I just walked up to the bars, thrust both my arms through, sacrificing my hearing for the last time, and aimed for the head.

I fired. 

I missed.  The bullet went into the body of the one I’d already gotten in the head.

I spent the next twenty minutes staring out of my cell as the creature tried and tried to push himself through the bars.  He wasn’t successful.  I sat there on that crappy mattress and watched him.

And eventually, to my great surprise and pleasure, he gave up and staggered out.  Perhaps that last part of his ravaged policeman brain told him that I was locked in a cell, he had no way of getting to me, and there might be easier pickings elsewhere.

All that happened in just about an hour.

It was ten minutes later when I heard a woman’s voice.

Gem’s voice, I’d later come to discover.  My heartbeat tripled, and I stood up and grabbed the bars of the cell.  I screamed, “Help!  Help me, somebody help me!  Can you hear me?” 

There was no answer.  In the far distance, I heard what sounded like a deeper voice on a radio.

I called out again, and again.  Eventually I heard quick footsteps coming in my direction, growing louder.

And then I saw them come through the door.  A big, goateed man holding a little girl, and a haggard but beautiful woman with corn silk black hair.  Both held automatic weapons.

I stuck my arms through the bars and called, “Hey, down here!  Down here!”

And you know the rest.  That’s the beginning of my story – the start of Hemp Chatsworth’s journey from the everyday sane world, straight into the apocalypse.

I love Flex and Gem.  They were first to save my life, and I could save theirs a thousand times over and never feel as though the debt has been repaid.

They are the reason I live and breathe today.

They are my family.

****

Chapter 2

I drove, to start out.  Charlie had her feet up on the dash as she bit her lower lip and listened to The Sex Pistols cranking out  Sub-Mission.

Yes, I know.  Married just six hours and already whipped, you’re saying.  In my defense, allow me to admit that the band didn’t suck as horribly as I’d remembered when they’d released their only studio album years before. 

Perhaps it’s in comparison to what Gem would call the shit out there today.  Or yesterday.  I don’t really have any idea what kind of bands will emerge in the time of zombies.

“You like it,” said Charlie, punching me in the arm. 

I turned to her and smiled.  “Not as bad as I remember it,” I said, voicing my thoughts.

“They’re fuckin’ great,” she said.  “Clash copied them.”

“I like The Clash alright,” I said.

Charlie closed her eyes, her head bopping up and down.  Her crossbow lay across her lap as she applied lubricant to the string. 

“Then you like The Sex Pistols,” she said, not looking up. 

I was leading the caravan of vehicles to Concord and the GPS was working beautifully.  I was glad for that technology.  I wasn’t a slouch with directions, but I wasn’t any tracker, either.  Three lefts and two rights and I could be turned around, hopelessly lost.  I led the way because everyone knew that if my mobile lab could get past the mess, they could, too. 

With my cow catcher on the front, I had the ability to push through almost anything.  What I couldn’t push through could be winched out of the way.  We’d already stopped three times to winch vehicles away in order to make a clear path.

“Think we’re doing the right thing, Sweetie?”

I glanced at Charlie, who’d set the bow aside, apparently satisfied it was in top condition.  I saw she’d mounted an arrow in it.

Locked and loaded.  That was my girl.

Hell, that was my
wife
.

“I have no idea, Charlie,” I said.  “I hope so.  The earth there should prevent the seepage of the gas.”

“Completely?”

“No,” I said.  “Perhaps not.  But maybe enough that dilution with oxygen would render it ineffective.”

“What would make your idea wrong?” she asked, her face all skewed.  She looked pretty cute when she skewed her face.

I sighed, but not from frustration at her questions; just because I’d been thinking the same thing. 

“
If
the gas doesn’t dissipate. 
If
it’s not absorbed into the atmosphere. 
If
it doesn’t lose its strength after a while.”

“Jeez, I only asked for one thing,” she said.

I laughed.  “I wish there were only one thing that could screw up my theory about the granite substrate.”

“How far ‘till we’re there?”

Flo walked up from the back of the motor home and put her big head on Charlie’s elbow.  Charlie reached over with both hands and scratched the big girl on both sides of her face, not leaving out some ear rubs.

I punched some buttons on the GPS.  “Looks like more than six hundred miles to go.  Better sit back.”

“Can’t.  Gotta pee.”

“Unbelievable,” I said.  “We’re just getting to
Woodstock.  Still in Virginia.”

“Big fuckin’ state,” said Charlie.  “But I still have to pee.”

“I don’t mean that.  I need to cross over the state line into Pennsylvania before I feel like I’ve gotten us anywhere.  No worries.  I’ll check if we need a stop anyway.”

“I got it,” Charlie said, clicking the button on the walkie talkie.  “Hey Gemmy, you read?”

After about five seconds, Gem’s voice came on.  “Yeah I do, babe.  Gotta pee?”

“At the very least,” she said.

“I need to stretch my legs, too,” said Gem.  “And I know Flex would appreciate it if I empty my barf bucket.  How are your passengers?”

Charlie craned her head around, then unbuckled her seat belt and got up, stepping over the unmoving Great Pyrenees, who just looked up at her with a wagging tongue  as she stepped over.

She walked back, and I watched in the rear view mirror.

She said softly into the radio, “I think they’re still wiped out from their ordeal.  Nobody stirring.”

We had the three women in the motor home, and had turned the small dinette table into a bed where Victoria and Kim now slept.  We’d taken two of the sleeping bags and put them in the main lab area, and the woman named Vikki slept there.

I believe they were the main reason Charlie kept the crossbow on her lap.  She still wasn’t completely sure whether or not something had happened to one of them and she just didn’t see it.  I knew Charlie would never be caught by surprise. 

She would be – and had been – the surprise to many of the infecteds, as well as to me, more than just once.

“So you’re throwing up, huh?” said Charlie.  “Sorry you’re having a rough pregnancy.”

“It’s bound to get worse from what I hear,” said Gem.  “But don’t worry about me.  If I got a little Flexy inside it’s all going to be worth it.  Hemp, I know you can hear me, so pull that big bastard over when you see somewhere that might accommodate a pee and poop session.”

“Since when,” I said, “did I become an expert in that?” I was smiling, and Gem heard it in my voice.  She didn’t miss much.

“Hey, bangers and mash, we’re all experts at everything now.  Until people come along who were experts at something before the plague, anyone can claim it.”

“I reserve the right to be famous for something else, then,” I said.  Charlie held the button for me as I put Gemina in her place.  “You, Aunt Gemina, can continue to be expert at syrup.”

“I have no response to that,” said Gem.  “Find a spot.  I’m sure just all this talk of peeing has everyone ready to burst.”

“You got that shit right,” said Dave over his radio.

“How are things on the little bus, Dave?” asked Charlie.

“Just as you’d expect,” he said.  “We’re going to need to fill this puppy, so when you find a spot, make sure there’s propane.”

“Bollocks,” I said.  “I almost forgot that bus runs on propane.”

“It’s not like we had a lot filled with buses to choose from.”

“It’s okay – there’ve been plenty of propane places along the way.  Good part about that is I can get that gas easier than the stuff in the underground tanks.  Hey, look.”

Charlie followed where I pointed.

“Hey, that’s a big rest stop.”

“Yep,” I said.  “The kind you need when you’re visiting the places where
America’s founding fathers did their thinking.”

“And the kind of place you go when you need a 60 ounce soda and a peanut log the size of a walking stick,” said Charlie.

“Damn, Charlie,” I said.  “Now I want a peanut log.”

“They’ll have them.  And they’ll be fine.  So many preservatives in there the expiration date is well after the Mayan calendar says it’s all over.”

“Push the button,” I said.  “Tell everyone this is the exit.  Ramp’s clear.”

She did.  We exited.

I could taste the peanut log already.

****

Rolling down the exit, another dog pack scavenged.  There were about fourteen to sixteen dogs in this one, and they were looking pretty rough.  Three or four of them started to give us chase, but when the others didn’t join them, they gave in to their exhaustion and stopped, just staring as we drove past.

It is a fouled up world where man’s best friend had lost his own best friend.  And the men that seemed so familiar to these canines – the ones that wouldn’t be frightened of them – were deceiving because they were now just as likely to try to eat the dogs as the dogs were likely to try to eat them in their desperate starvation.

And the cans of dog food just sat on the shelves, unopened.  These are the stupid things that went through my mind sometimes.  When I wasn’t working on something that might cure or kill these zombie-things, I thought about the ordinary.

The ordinary that is no more.  But at least we had Bunsen and her kids, and they would not know fear.

Not if we could stop it.

I pulled into the station and parked beside the diesel pumps, and as agreed, everyone pulled into a rough star pattern to start.  We all got out and met in the middle.

“Wow,” said Flex.  “That felt like ten hours.”

“Only four and a half,” said Dave.

“Twenty-eight or so in dog hours,” said Gem.

“Feels more like it,” said Lisa.  “Where can we pee?”

“Got a gun?” asked Gem.

“No.  I’ll follow you guys.”

“And me.  I don’t need no stinking gun,” said Charlie. 

The girls walked toward the building, heads moving side-to-side, ever scanning for danger. 

“When you get back, wake up the ladies in the lab and see if they need to go,” said Flex.  “We’re going to want a good run before we pull off again.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Dave said.  “You guys do what you need to do to get us set up.”

“Good.  Get some of the other men to help you, but don’t arm them yet.”

“Got it,” Dave said, throwing his long hair behind his back.

Flex walked up to me.  In a low voice he said, “I don’t want these guys having guns yet.  Except for Dave.  I don’t know them and I don’t trust them yet.  Have you talked to the two nobody seems to know?”

“Not yet.  I think the big blonde guy’s name is Pete.  The other one I forget.”

Flex tapped his chin with his index finger for a second, glanced quickly behind him at the bald man, and said, “It’s Rory.  And I don’t want either one of them armed.”

“I know, Flex.  But some of these guys – maybe those two – aren’t likely to simply accept anyone taking charge right now.  Sooner or later someone is going to try to assert their free will.”

“I expect that,” said Flex.  “But they’re gonna have to get their own guns.  We control the firearms for now.”

“I don’t like this dynamic where we have to worry about personalities.  I’ve been used to knowing who we’ve been with.”

Flex nodded.  “I know.  I feel the same.  But we can’t take this shit on alone, so it is what it is.”

“Cool,” I said.  “I gotta piss, then let’s get these vehicles filled and back on the road.”

****

There were too many people.  I didn’t enjoy trying to keep track of them, but when I needed help it was kind of nice to have multiple avenues of delegation.

“Sir?” said the boy, who I judged to be about fourteen years old.

“Hemp, please.  What’s your name, son?”

“Matt.”

“Okay, Matt.  What can I do for you?”

“I want to help.  To thank you for the food.”

“You don’t have to work for food, but I appreciate it,” I said.  “But you
can
help.  See that big propane tank over there?”

Matt looked.  His dark hair was cut like Paul McCartney’s when the Beatles just took off.  Mop top.  It flipped, despite its need for a good wash and trim.

“There?”

“Yep.  Go check it and let me know if it’s locked.  If it is, I’ll show you a trick.”

Gem and Charlie had come back and gone into the mobile lab.  Moments later, they came back out with Kimberly, Vikki and Victoria.  “What can we do, Hemp?” asked Gem.

“I have a question first.  Dumb, maybe, but I have to ask.” 

I looked at Vikki and Victoria.  “How did the two of you get the same name?  I was under the impression you’re sisters.”

Victoria
blushed.  “Yes, we are.  And my name isn’t really Victoria.  It’s Jasmine.  I’ve always liked Victoria, and since Vikki has always been Vikki, then I thought this was a perfect point in time to take the name I want.  It’s not like anyone’s checking IDs.”

“Okay, then.  Good.  Charlie, do me a favor, would you?  Go over with the boy.  He’s unarmed, and I’d prefer someone be with him who can protect him.  His name’s Matt.”

“I can protect him,” said Charlie, smiling.  “He checking the propane tanks?”

“Exactly.”

Before Charlie could start walking toward him, the boy came running back.  He was practically panting when he arrived.  “It’s unlocked.  The lock’s on the ground, and there’s a gauge on it with an arrow in the green part.”

“Good observation,” I said.  “That means there’s gas in it.”

“Matt, I’m Charlie.  Come with me and we’ll get Dave and drive that bus over.  Want to ride?”

“Sure!” said Matt.

He seemed excited to be involved.  And he looked as though he felt safe.  I felt good about that.  It made this tremendous hassle worthwhile.